


Is It Possible?

by loveandleelin



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Les Mis AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandleelin/pseuds/loveandleelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between her dreams and her worries she finds the hope in something new. Modern Day Les Mis with E/E</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Possible?

It’s somewhere between the cover of darkness and the bright light of day and once again she finds herself perched on the windowsill of her apartment. She looks out the window, through the grime and the dirt that just won’t come off and looks at the lights flickering. The stars, the street lights and the few cars creeping along the shadowy roadways. And she sighs. She half expects to see her breath it feels so cold. So she wraps the sweater tighter around herself, wishing for something anything to change. Her thoughts drift through her day and what she’ll have to do to make ends meet once again, and that little pit in her stomach tightens in fear. But before she can let the worries overtake her thoughts for the night, she hears the choked sobs emit through the paper thin walls again. Gav’ she thinks as she untangles herself from the ledge and her feet pad across the floor. He doesn’t talk about it when he’s awake… but in his dreams he remembers the terrors they’ve escaped from. She brushes the tangled hair from his forehead and gentle sings the song she’s sang to him for the past 11 years. She mumbles the words that taste like memories on her tongue,

“On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand-chose  
Elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses  
On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud  
Que de nos chagrins il s’en fait des manteaux  
Pourtant quelqu’un m’a dit…”

And while she lies on the thin mattress that’s pushed against the wall of her brother’s room, she repeats the motions of running her fingers through his hair, singing a song of hidden love and secret wanting. Waiting for the bad to pass away. It’s warmer in this tiny nook of a room since she got the heater for nights just as these. As he calms, and his breathing returns to the gentle sound only a child can really produce, Eponine herself feels the sleepiness take over. She’ll get a couple of hours of sleep before her shift starts in the morning, and she curls into a ball between the wall and Gavroche and dreams of a secret loves a dreams of what might be.

The next morning Eponine awakes to a banging noise on the front door and a foot pressed soundly and painfully against her ribcage. She stretches and looks over at Gavroche and wonders how someone so small can take up so much space sprawled out on a bed. She is in the foggy half-awake state and it takes her a moment to realize that someone is banging on the door. But in an instant she is on high alert as to who could be causing such a commotion. And of course her mind jumps to all the worst possible conclusions, because knowing her life it would be the worst possible conclusion. So body ridged with frightful anticipation she makes her way over the snoring Gav, who apparently can sleep through a firestorm, and grabs a kitchen knife off the counter, just in case. 

“Who is it?!” she all but snarls through the closed door. She’s slightly trembling, due to what exactly she’s not sure. But when the voice answers back on the other side of the door, she’s instantly calm, albeit a little ticked off.

“EP! It’s Courf; open the blasted door, its freezing out here!!” She can practically see him hopping from foot to foot as he tries to generate some heat for himself.   
Eponine opens the door, hand on her hips and glare affixed on her face ready to knock her neighbor down a peg or two. 

“What in God’s name makes you-” she couldn’t even finish her threat when she was pushed aside and a bag shoved in her face.

“You’re going to be horribly late for work and you never answered your stupid phone.” He looks at her holding the bag like a lifeline  
“Don’t crush that bag too much dear, that’s your breakfast.” He adds with a smile. She feels the cold drenches of reality drop down her like a bucket of ice water… and she looks over to the window ledge were her phone is sitting, blinking smugly with indication of missed calls and unread texts. 

“CRAP!” She yells ripping off the sweater she was wearing and making a mad dash for her room to through on her uniform and making her hair somewhat presentable for a day at the café. 

“What time is it now?!” She yells down the hall as Courf as she practically dives into her tiny closet looking for that other shoe she threw there late last night. 

“7:30...” They both pause as they let her take in the fact that she’s an hour late already.

“Don’t be made at me! I tried to call!” She’s a flurry past him as he says he’ll get Gav ready for school and all that he does to help her in the morning. He’s a saint really, and she can’t help but thank him again as he thrusts the bag in her face and tells her to eat. They both know that even though she is in the café all day she’ll probably forgo the food that’s around her.

She reaches in expecting the sugar coated doughnuts he’s so prone to and actually stops in her tracks as she realizes that it’s actually a bagel and fruit in there. She raises her eyebrows in question, and Courfeyrac sighs remembering the dreaded doughnut debacle from earlier that morning and says “Enjolras said no more doughnuts”, apparently that is explanation enough. She ruffles his hair and fixes him with a stair “Please let my place by in one piece when I get back, and my brother not completely covered in cake mix”.

As she dashes out the door she hears him yell back “THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr drabble that kinda took on a life of it's own. I blame Youwerejustakid...It's all her fault basically. And I am ever so thankful.


End file.
